


Make Out Like a Bandit 1. (Idiomatic, Informal) To Profit Greatly; To Get an Excessively Good Deal

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Attempts at humour, Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: A Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU in which Iris and Barry are detectives, Leonard is a colourful car thief, andno, Sara, I am not attracted to Snart, he's my nemesis!Written for ColdWestAllen Week 2018:Changing ChannelsEdition, Day Two: Law/Crime





	Make Out Like a Bandit 1. (Idiomatic, Informal) To Profit Greatly; To Get an Excessively Good Deal

**Author's Note:**

> It's late and I have work in the morning so this isn't properly proofread. I'll go over it tomorrow when I get a chance, so if you're reading this: congratulations, you get an early sneak peak (which is likely just the final version but riddle with typos so, small victories)!
> 
> But yeah, this is my contribution for Day Two: Law/Crime, because someone on tumblr who I can't remember for the life of me now pointed out similarities between Coldflash and Jake/Judy and I couldn't unsee it. There are some mild B99 spoilers ahead, but this doesn't 100% follow the plot of B99 as far as relationship development stuff goes anyway so read at your own discretion if you're behind.

“I do not  _have it hard up_  for the Pontiac Bandit!”

Barry’s voice is shrill and defensive, carrying more than initially desired across the Nine-Nine’s bustling bullpen. A flush washes across the planes of his face, and he knows even without looking he’s turned brighter red then the lights on the squad cars out front from the sudden blistering heat.

Ava snorts and quirks an eyebrow, the barest hint of a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corner at her mouth. Barry has half a mind to lecture her about friendly fire and disrespecting a fellow officer, but he bites his tongue and redirects the nervous energy bubbling under his skin.

“Leonard Snart is a criminal who steals cars then evades arrest by bamboozling us” – a dubious look from Ava, and Barry gets on his high horse – “that’s right, I said bamboozle – like a cartoon villain from every Saturday morning cartoon I watched growing up when I should have been doing my homework instead because, as we all know–”

“The TV raised you,” Ava finishes with a bored sigh. “Maybe if you’d done some of that homework, he wouldn't be evading you,” she adds, grabbing a file from her desk and doing her level best to ignore him the way she knows gets under his skin most.

“What’s this about Barry boning the Pontiac Bandit?”

Barry nearly jumps out of his skin as Sara sneaks up behind him, despite being hard to miss ing the latest wolf-themed sweater to enter her wardrobe’s rotation. She takes the file from Ava’s hand with a murmured “ _Stein’s been looking for this for hours, whoops_ ” and a swat to Ava’s ass that is workplace inappropriate the way Sara is always workplace inappropriate. Ava smiles and ducks her head, smitten yet clearly loathing every second she’s been made to emote at work. Normally, Barry would tease her – it’s part of their ongoing rapport since their Academy days – but he’s got something much more pressing on his mind.

“Are you telling  _everyone_  that I have a thing for Snart?”

“Are we talking about your thing for Snart now?” Cisco asks, coming out of nowhere as expertly as Sara had, and Barry does jump this time, as well as let out a strangled yelp he’d sooner chose to forget.

“Because I gotta say, buddy, it was getting real weird to not talk about it," Cisco continues.

Barry gapes at him. “C-Cisco,” he sputters, bringing his hands up to smooth down the front of his plaid button-down, fingers skimming over the cool ridges of the badge he wears around his neck a familiar comfort. “What the hell?”  

“I just want you to know,” Cisco says, reaching up to clasp Barry by the shoulder and hold his gaze in an intense sort of way that makes Barry squirm. “That we all support you. The Nine-Nine is a judgement free zone.”

Then, in spite of himself, Cisco winces and shakes his head. “Well,” he amends. “Not so much about the canoodling with a wanted fugitive part, but the bi part. Pan part? We haven’t really discussed labels– you know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s your journey.”

In a strange way, Barry is touched. “Thank you, Cisco,” he says, slow with his incredulity but sincere nonetheless. “And it’s bi, but that’s not actually relevant to this conversation since I’m _not canoodling with Leonard Snart._ ”

He’s met with three blank, unmoved stares.

“Guys, seriously,” he tries again. “I’m dating. Your colleague and good friend, Iris West. Does none of this ring a bell to any of you?”

At that, Cisco and Ava make small, acquiescent noises, heads tilting, lips pursing. Sara’s still got her _I-smell-bullshit_ face on, but there’s little Barry’s found in the twenty-eight odd years they’ve been friends to dissuade that, so he doesn’t bother trying.

“The Pontiac Bandit is my nemesis,” Barry says. “My Hans Gruber. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

* * *

 

Barry _might_ have it _at least a little_ hard up for the Pontiac Bandit.

There’s something of an obsession forming, he’ll at least cop to that much. Because, since their first electric encounter, Barry has run into Leonard Snart four times, and the overdramatic criminal is starting to become a permanent fixture in his day to day idle thoughts.

At first it was the desire to catch him, which morphed into a sick curiosity about what he might be up to now, until finally settling in as a gentle musing about Leonard’s day. Is he getting enough rest? Does the radio play his songs? Did he eat at any good delis lately (the last of which might have been on Cisco, since he and Caitlin have been taking their son on a culture tour of Brooklyn cuisine by cuisine)?

“Barry,” Ray snaps, and it’s enough to get Barry’s head back in the game. He glances up from the amorphous spot just above the report on his desk where he’d let his eyes drift to see Ray standing before him, one hand firmly on his hip while the other grips a mug of coffee so tight Barry worries it might break.

“Hey, Sarge,” Barry greets, pulling out his best puppy dog smile. It does nothing to dislodge the scowl from Ray’s face.

“Stein wanted your report handed in twenty minutes ago,” Ray scolds. The remorse in Barry’s expression is genuine this time, and Ray sighs, letting his muscle-bound shoulders drop.

“Some guys get away,” Ray says gently, and Barry looks down at the paperwork on his desk and truly sees it for the first time in an hour.

Leonard Snart. Of course. Because Barry’s thoughts weren’t already drifting to him enough of their own accord, now he was expected to think of him for genuine good reason.

“I just–” Barry sighs. “I really thought I had him this time. I feel like I’m not doing my job right. Like I’m a bad cop for not being able to get my man.” _For wanting to get him in a whole other way._

Ray purses his lips, all warmth and sympathy. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been there. Every cop has. But you’re doing everything you can, and sometimes that’s all you _can_ do.

“Besides” Ray adds, suddenly amused by the thought that’s stuck him. “It’s Leonard Snart. Give it a couple months, the guy’ll probably be back to give you another crack at him.”

Barry laughs, but there’s a tension that still pulls his shoulders tight.

Ray steps back from Barry’s and straightens his back, an impressive wall of biceps and authority once more. “Now, hurry up, Allen,” he says. “Edison and Tesla have their school play on tonight and The Atom does not want to be stuck parking in ten blocks away.”

“Roger that,” Barry says with a small, offhanded salute, finally turning back to the report open on his desk, but not before noticing the mug of coffee left deliberately on the end of his desk.  

Right, Leonard Snart. Barry can do this.

 

* * *

 

Barry cannot do this. There’s a velvet box burning a hole in his pocket and an escaped convict singing jazz in the lounge and this boat, impressive as it it, only has room for one of those things at a time.

Barry feels the pressure of Iris’ hand as it squeezes, grounding him – or oceaning him, as it were – to reality. He feels the anxiety fade from a rolling boil to a dull simmer, and something about the back of his throat tastes less like bile and unshed tears.

“Why is Leonard Snart on a cruise ship?” Iris whispers, leaning in to catch Barry’s ear.

“Oh, probably because we’re in international waters, meaning the NYPD has no jurisdiction to arrest him,” Barry replies.

Slowly, Iris nods. “Right,” she says. “So, why did Leonard Snart send us free tickets for this cruise?”

Barry’s voice is high-pitched and strained when he replied. “Because he’s trying to kill me.”

More aptly, it seems, someone is trying to kill Leonard. After the show, Leonard pulls Barry and Iris aside to his quarters – magnificent and opulent as ever, not that Barry would expect anything less – and fills them in about the threats he’s been receiving to his life.

“Maybe if you didn’t do crime for a living, people wouldn’t have so many perfectly valid reasons to kill you,” Barry snaps, his nerves wearing thin already. The ring box is awkward in his pocket, bumping his thigh, every time he moves, and it’s not a reminder he needs right now.

“Now, Barry,” Leonard says, the familiar slow, disaffected drawl sending a chill up Barry’s spine. To Barry’s horror, Iris’ eyes brighten in a telltale show that she’s noticed. “I could say the same thing about people who cut people off in traffic.”

Barry grimaces to hide and amused smile, and because grimacing seems appropriate, given the situation at large. “Kinda really wish you wouldn't, though,” he replies.

“Okay, maybe we debate what constitutes a murdurable offence after we deal with the assassin lose on our four-star romantic getaway,” Iris interjects, ever the level head. The statement, which could have been made to sound defensive and possessive, holds an element of mirth Barry hadn’t been expecting.

Apparently, neither had Leonard. “You lovebirds really took the romantic getaway bit to heart, didn’t you?” he observes, eyes narrowed.

“Iris wrote an outline for the sex,” Barry blurts, because his nerves are getting the best of him, and because he can’t stop, adds, “there’s a thesis and everything.”

Iris is caught somewhere between embarrassed and strangely proud after Barry’s outburst, and Leonard, for his part, looks intrigued. “Do I ever get to see this essay?” he teases.

To Barry’s surprise, it’s Iris who replies. “It could stand to be proofread.”

Something in her tone is dangerous, almost flirty, and it sends another thrill up Barry’s spine. Judging from the look on Leonard’s face, he isn’t entirely disaffected either.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for the sake of Barry’s nerves, none of them get a chance to dwell on whatever tension Iris has created since an axe comes careening through the door to Leonard’s suite, and anything that isn’t assassin related is swiftly cast away.

 

* * *

 

Barry is starting to suspect Iris has it hard up for the Pontiac Bandit.

After their incident at sea, the engagement ring returned to its home at the bottom of Cisco’s sock drawer to be put to use at a better, less Leonard-filled time.

Which was proving to be difficult since, following the attempt on his life at sea and his the heroic way in which he took a butterfly knife to the forearm to keep Iris safe, Leonard’s been put on probation and assigned to work… at the Nine-Nine.

“It’s like having two Saras,” Mick says around a mouthful of powdered donut, and the part of Barry that recognizes Leonard for the overcompensating drama queen he is can’t help but agree.

“Don’t let Sara hear you say that,” Zari interjects kicking her way across the floor in her office chair and rolling to a stop at Mick’s side. She hold out her hand and he passes her over a donut from the box – certified halal from a bakery twelve blocks away, which is the most effort Barry’s ever seen Mick put in to… well, anything.

“I, for one, like having him around,” Iris says. She reaches for a donut, but Mick slaps her hand away, and Iris rolls her eyes, going for a coffee instead.

“Even if the next thing he steals is your fiancé?” Mick quips, then grunts as Zari elbows him in the ribs.

“Barry is a grown man,” Iris sighs. “Leonard can’t steal– Wait, did you say financé?”

She turns on a time, looking at Barry with owlish eyes. Barry gapes like a fish and tries to think fast before remembering he’s never been any good at that. He looks past Iris and over at Mick and Zari, who at least have the decency to look sheepish.

“How did you two even know about that?” Barry asks.

Mick shrugs. “We may or may not have planted some hidden cameras around the office.”

“Barry,” Iris says, breathy and low, quickly stealing back his attention. Her eyes are wide, a little glossy, and Barry’s shoulder drop as the ire floods out of him all at once.

“Okay, so you know how we were supposed to go on this crazy romantic cruise but it turned out to be more of a death trap than originally planned?” Barry begins, but Iris beats him to the rest.

“You were gonna propose,” she says.

“Right,” Barry confirms, because there’s no sense in hiding it now. The whole bullpen has gone quiet, all eyes on them, and Barry goes for broke. He gets down on one knee.

“Detective Iris Ann West,” Barry says. “Will you marry me.”

He feels silly without a ring, without anything to offer, but then Leonard is at his side, holding out a small velvet box Barry knows all too well, and Barry frowns up at him as he takes it. There’s a smirk at the corner of Leonard’s mouth, though there’s something almost mournful about it.

“I read you on the boat,” he says. “Didn’t mean to crash your first proposal. Figured I should carry this around in case you need it for another.”

The look they share is intense, something Barry doesn’t know how to process at the same time he’s waiting to hear if the girl of his dreams will agree to be his wife. Iris looks like she’s in on it, too, when they shift their gazes up, she watching both of them with bright, piercing eyes.

Cisco comes through in the clutch to crash the moment before it gets too much for work on a Wednesday, if there is such a thing when two coworkers are getting engaged.

“Hey,” he sputters. “That ring’s been in my apartment for weeks! Did you– did you break into my apartment? I am an officer of the law!”

Cisco’s next protest dies on his lips when Iris whispers, “yes.”

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, Barry is _heart_ up for the Pontiac Bandit.

There’s a bomb at his and Iris’ wedding. Because of course there is. It feels like some strange kind of sign from the universe, that something is off about the way they’re choosing to come together.

Barry can’t help but feel like it’s because there’s something – or rather someone – missing.

He can’t help but think Iris feels it too, with the way she slaps a nicotine patch or three to the skin of her stomach before the threat’s even been called in, the way her hair frizzes against her brow despite the heft of the hairspray applied to keep it in place.

Leonard though, Leonard comes through in the clutch. While Barry and Iris hunt for leads to find their bomber, he rallies the troops at the precinct, fixing the loose ends with the cake and the band and the decorations, so when the future Mr. & Mrs. West-Allen (“ _we’re taking each other’s names,_ ” Barry has been so remind everyone) arrive with their perp, the Nine-Nine parking lot is every bit as gorgeous as the room they left behind at City Hall.

Things finally start to feel right, after that.

Stein marries them, gives them a profound speech about the way he’s watched their relationship blossom and grow, but in the moment, Barry can’t help but reflect back on another speech Stein once gave.

_“Love is like oatmeal. It sustains you.”_

And it’s what Leonard’s done. He’s sustained them, sustained their wedding, sustained their relationship. When Barry kisses his bride, he thinks of all the ways she’s been the hearty foundation of all the good things in his life. Then, when they walk down the aisle as husband and wife, they both spare a look for Leonard, and Barry thinks of how he’s been their sugar and spice.

“Hey,” Barry says, when they’re in the evidence lockup, taking a moment to be alone, just the two of them, before the squad drags them out to Shaw’s Bar for celebratory drinks. There are butterflies in his stomach, but he’s pretty sure they’re the friendly kind. “So, I think I kinda have it hard up for the Pontiac Bandit.”

And Iris smiles. “I know,” she says. She places her hands on his chest, one just over his heart to feel it beat out a tattoo. “I think I kinda have it hard up for the Pontiac Bandit, too.”

“I Think I Kinda Have it Hard Up for the Pontiac Bandit, Too; title of our sex tape,” Barry says on impulse.

Iris laughs. “Is that a threesome?” she asks.

From the door, a slow, drawling voice takes them both by surprise.

“Call it a hunch, but I think the answer might just be yes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/)


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